


Water and Glass

by fancypineapple



Category: GOT7
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Mediunity, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6958966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancypineapple/pseuds/fancypineapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jinyoung had no trouble with accepting Mark’s explanation though. “I get possessed a lot,” he said offhandedly, to which Jinyoung replied only, “ah”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water and Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aquilaprisca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaprisca/gifts).



> i tried my best to make the fic pleasant to read, and i hope the final result suits your tastes. also my thanks to A for all the support, and J for betaing it in record speed!

There’s mist on the streets when Jinyoung wakes up, gently emerging from sleep like a branch floating in a river. For a second, he lies on his bed motionless, blinking as he waits his senses to come back to him. Jinyoung always wakes up like this after a good dream; disoriented and a bit numb. He rarely remembers what he dreamed about.

Upon remembering his own name, and where he is in time-space, Jinyoung slowly gets, stretching, letting the sleepiness seep out of his body. The window is a bit foggy, denouncing how chilly it must be outside. He, however, doesn’t waste time thinking about the cold.

He’ll go out today.

Half an hour after his awakening, Jinyoung is walking through the pension’s door as silently as he can, a stolen apple in his hands. The air outside is cold, humid, and it stands still, but the mist is almost gone. Straightening his coat, Jinyoung takes a bite of his apple, and starts walking. 

All of his mornings seem to follow this pattern. Wake up early, steal something from the kitchen, and sneak out before breakfast into the eerie quietness of the streets, walking towards the steep western hills. There’s no one for him to greet in his way – it’ll be an hour until the normal citizens are up – though, occasionally, Jinyoung crosses path with the milk boy, whom he cordially smiles to. His walk lasts fifteen to twenty minutes, and takes him to a nondescript house that sits between one hill and the other, surrounded by empty lots, almost out of the city borders.

Jinyoung tosses the apple core to the lot on his right, and jumps over the fence.

“Hello!” He calls, not too loud, but loud enough. There’s a narrow path that leads from the front gate, which Jinyoung has just jumped over, to the actual house, and Jinyoung follows it. He notices, in his way, how the garden looks better tended than usual. Not that it’d take much work for that, as the garden is so simple it can barely be called a garden, but the owner of the house rarely tended to it at all. 

As he’s approaching the house, he calls again, “hello!”, for good measure. He’s close enough, though, that calling for someone is obsolete now. The door is unlocked, as always. Sighing, he opens it. “Mark, I’m here.”

“Come in!” A voice comes from the kitchen. Jinyoung closes the door behind him, and toes off his shoes before stepping into the living room. It’s awfully dark inside. 

“How about you reply when I call, so I know you aren’t dead?”

Just as Jinyoung is arriving at the kitchen, Mark pops out at the doorframe, hair sticking up and eyes vivid. “And how do you know I’m not dead?”

One of _those_ mornings, huh.

 

 

To cut a long story short, Mark Tuan is a medium. 

A very specific kind of medium, as they come. Some mediums can hear the spirits, others can talk to the spirits, and others can _see_ the spirits. Mark Tuan can do none of those. Instead, what he can do is lend the spirits his body and his voice. It’s some kind of voluntary possession. Except, Jinyoung thinks bitterly as he sits down at the kitchen table, it’s dubious whether consent is really involved in that.

Whoever has Mark today is incredibly energetic. Mark’s body is a flurry of movement, jumping from one point to the other in the kitchen, under the intention of serving Jinyoung ‘a proper breakfast’.

 _Mark will feel rather tired after this_ , is what Jinyoung thinks.

“Who is it, today?” He asks. Mark’s body halts in its track.

“What?” This voice is higher than Mark’s usual speaking voice. Shriller, quicker. 

“I’m asking who you are,” Jinyoung asks placidly, offering the spirit a smile. “You’re not one of the usual ones. Let’s start with something simple. What’s your name?”

“Oh… I see, I see,” the spirit nods. Then, he opens the fridge, lands the milk pitcher on the table, and sits down on the chair across Jinyoug’s, so quickly that the table trembles. “I’m just a normal guy. Passed from a drug overdose a long time ago. I was worried about this one,” he jabs a finger onto Mark’s shoulder. “This house is a mess, and he doesn’t eat properly. I decided to take matters in my own hands.”

“I see.” Jinyoung softens a little. “Not making him take any drugs, are you?”

“Pft. I left that behind with my body. My drugs thing was purely physical,” This spirit talks through grand hand gestures and funny faces. He must’ve been good at public speeches in life, Jinyoung thinks. “I’m just helping this guy out, I swear. I made him clean up his room, the bathrooms, sleep for seven hours, have a balanced breakfast…”

“Hm.” Jinyoung nods as the spirit serves him some coffee. He fiddles with a fork for a while, watching, from the corner of his eye, Mark’s body rearrange everything on the table, straighten the cloth, and clean the rim of the milk pitcher, for some reason. “For how long have you been there?”

The spirit stops talking, and turns to Jinyoung with an eyebrow raised in disdain. Jinyoung laughs. That looks hilarious in Mark’s face.

“You’re a nosy one,” the spirit says. “Are you, what? Interviewing me?”

“Merely asking,” Jinyoung shrugs. “I’m a good friend of Mark’s. I help him track the, ah, channeling, you know. Keep count of when, where, and who… and for what reason as well.”

“Hm. Okay.” It looks like the spirit isn’t buying it. He squints at Jinyoung so hard that Mark’s eyes disappear in thin lines. All Jinyoung can do is to offer an inoffensive smile. “Well, I’ve been in him for a while. Since late night last night. But I was about to leave, actually. This guy’s stamina is starting to run out.”

“I see. That’s a pity.” Jinyoung doesn’t truly thinks that’s a pity. But that shouldn’t matter. “Can I at least get a name? For the records.”

“Hm…” The spirit crosses Mark’s arms. “Call me Raccoon.”

“Raccoon,” Jinyoung nods, still smiling. “An awfully suspicious name for someone who’s ‘just a guy’,” he jests before he can stop himself.

Raccoon merely clicks Mark’s tongue. “Whatever. Make sure this guy cleans the kitchen afterwards.”

And Mark’s body plunges forward. Jinyoung cushions his forehead just in time, darting a hand to lie on the table where the skull would hit the wood. When it hits his flesh instead… it hurts just a little. Jinyoung makes a face.

Within a few seconds, Mark comes back to his senses. He rises a bit sluggishly from his fallen position, blinking and looking around in sedated confusion. His eyes go over the table, then, himself; and then, they rise to meet Jinyoung, who is proud to be the apparent cause for the way Mark’s face relaxes then.

“Hi,” Mark says softly, in his own voice.

“Hi,” Jinyoung says back.

The coffee that Raccoon has served Jinyoung has gone cold. Jinyoung knows that, but he takes a sip anyway.

“Interesting,” is what Mark comments when he sees the fully served table, complete with scrambled eggs and pancakes. Mark rarely eats anything other than plain toast for breakfast. “So, who was it?”

“Someone new, actually. Seems like his name is Raccoon,” Jinyoung reports back, drinking his coffee in a distracted manner. “He says he made you tidy up the house a little.”

“Oh, he did? I guess I should thank him then.” Mark reaches for a toast.

“No need to. He did so at the cost of your energy after all.”

“Still.” Mark shrugs. “He had the motivation.”

Jinyoung doesn’t reply. For a moment, he just observes Mark from over the rim of his cup, watching he go by with his breakfast ritual, in his usual pace, slow, relaxed… 

“How are you feeling?”

Mark pours himself some coffee. “Tired,” he admits, taking a bite of his toast. Jinyoung hums. “My shoulders are stiff. I guess there’s someone else wanting to get in.”

“Already?” Jinyoung frowns. “That’s strange. They should know you’re worn out, no?”

“Perhaps it’s something important.” Mark looks like he’s actually considering letting the spirit in so soon. Jinyoung scoffs, making it clear that he doesn’t like that idea. “There’s nothing in for them if I collapse. So, if they’re pushing it…”

He trails off. Jinyoung clicks his tongue, directing Mark a steely disapproving stare. It melts like jelly, though, when Mark’s eyes meet his, involuntarily persuasive. He’s quite sure Mark doesn’t particularly want to let the spirit in, and yet…

“If you think it’s safe…”

“I think it’s a nuisance,” is his simple reply. “If we’re lucky, whoever it is, they'll finish quick and leave. I was thinking of going to the city today.”

“Oh.” Jinyoung is a bit surprised. He finishes his coffee. “Let’s see if you’ll still be up for it after they come in, then.”

Mark smiles a bit crookedly, in amusement and defiance. “Let’s see. Keep tabs, will you?”

Jinyoung sighs, and fetches his cellphone from his pocket. Then, he nods.

 

 

They don’t go to town until dusk that day, after Mark has had a filling lunch and a good period of rest. The second spirit didn’t have anything particularly important to say, in the end. It was just one of Mark’s regulars, one that was particularly fond of picking on Jinyoung and on everything he did for no good reason.

“She’s just a child,” Mark said when a very annoyed Jinyoung reported back, right after the spirit left Mark’s body. 

“She’s not a child. She’s a ghost, and older than you and me both,” Jinyoung retorted, in an awful mood, gathering the dirty kitchenware in the sink. It had become quite clear, once the spirit left, that Mark was too tired to tidy up the kitchen himself.

“She died very young, and I’m not sure if ghosts age in the… ghost world, or whatever it is,” Mark threw back at the time, somehow finding strength in him to be petulant even though his face had lost all color. “Besides, isn’t it cute? She likes you.”

“Ha!” Had been Jinyoung’s answer, a single, scornful sound. 

But now Mark is much better, following Jinyoung’s stride with ease as they make their way downtown, greeting passerbys with the same silent politeness as Jinyoung himself. They talk very little during their walk, but it’s not unpleasant. It’s quite homely, in a way.

“Oh, look,” Mark suddenly chirps as they arrive at the commercial center, climbing down the last hill, and it’s the first thing he has said for the past twenty minutes. “It’s the sea.”

Jinyoung laughs soundly at that. “Why yes, Mark. That is, indeed, the sea,” he replies in feigned surprise. “I heard it’s been there for a while.”

“Really?” Mark gets aboard his game, forging his baffled tone so well it could’ve fooled anyone else. “Wow. We better go see it from up close before it goes away.”

“Was this a backwards attempt to invite me out to the beach?” Jinyoung has to ask, stealing a furtive look at Mark to read him for answers. Turns out he’s also glancing at him, though, and their eyes meet. Mark has a telling smirk in his lips. “I see. Now, you mean?”

“Not now. One of these days. Now I’m more in a hot tea and grocery shop mood.” Without much of a warning, Mark reaches for Jinyoung, and entwines their arms, which is a bit surprising, but not unheard of. Mark can be quite unpredictable sometimes. 

“Shopping first, tea later?” Jinyoung suggests.

Mark sighs. “Fine.” 

Each of them has half of the shopping list. Mark is usually responsible for the basics, like rice, coffee, snacks and cleaning products; Jinyoung, on the other side, is in charge of choosing vegetables, meat, and dairy. Consequently, Jinyoung is also in charge of making small chat with the villagers. 

“He’s been fine,” is the sentence Jinyoung says the most during the one hour they take in the shop. Right now, he says it to Mrs. Hwang Areum, owner of the utilities shop that’s a couple of blocks away. “Same as always. He’s been interested in 3D puzzles lately.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Hwang nods thoughtfully, and Jinyoung can’t get used to the way the villagers are genuinely interested in what Mark does in his everyday life. “Well, send my regards to him. You can come down for tea and hotpot at our house any day you want, okay? It must be colder up there.”

“Only at nights. But thank you, we will.” Jinyoung says, smiling.

“Jinyoung!” Mark’s voice calls him, and Jinyoung blinks. When he turns around, he sees Mark’s body going towards him, but that’s not Mark. “Oh, hello!”

“Hello, Mr. Tuan,” Mrs. Hwang bows. “It’s good to see you in such good health. I was just telling Mr. Park you two are invited for dinner at my place, whenever you feel like it.”

“Thank you! It’s very kind of you,” Mark’s body beams in a way very familiar to Jinyoung. “We’ll definitely take up on that offer. Right, Jinyoung?”

“Me and my family will be honored to have you over.” If she has noticed anything off about Mark, she doesn’t show it. “Well then, excuse me. Have a good evening.”

“Same to you, Mrs. Hwang.” Jinyoung bows, and Mark’s body follows suit.

It’s only when she’s out of sight, and out of their hearing range, that Jinyoung turns to Mark’s body and asks, “Sally, isn’t it?”

“Aw, Jinyoungie! I knew you would recognize me,” Sally coos, switching to her usual feminine intonation, and drapping Mark’s body over Jinyoung’s own. “Did you miss me? We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“True. It’s been… close to two weeks,” Jinyoung pretends not to remember well. “It’s glad to see that you’re doing well, but the timing is a bit bad. Mark is quite tired today.”

“He’s not _that_ tired,” Sally rolls Mark’s eyes, pouting. “I just wanted to see you. And help with shopping. When I came down, this guy was picking up some weird dish soap. You need to tell him to be more careful! He can’t just pick any brand of soap just because it’s cheaper!”

“It’s just dish soap.”

“Tsk, you’re too careless. Who knows what they put in that stuff?” With Mark’s body enveloping him like that, it’s hard for Jinyoung to move. He settles for the cabbage he first picked in the end, not wanting to extend their stay in the shop, and gently unravels himself from Sally’s hold. “Hm?”

“I’m finished here.” Jinyoung explains. “How’s Mark’s part?”

“Oh, all done!” Sally raises Mark’s basket, filled to the brim with unnecessary stuff. Jinyoung suppresses a sigh. At least the essential seems to be there. “Are you taking me to out to dinner?”

“Nope, we’re going home.” Jinyoung starts walking towards the cashier, knowing she’ll follow. “You’re his third today. Try not to take much of his energy, okay? It’s a long walk back home.”

“Humpf. Okay,” Sally mutters in a sulky tone, entwining their arms. It’s completely different from how Mark does it, even though it’s the same body, the same warmth. “You know, sometimes I almost have the feeling you like Mark better than me.”

Jinyoung laughs. “I wonder why,” he replies, and it's all he says.

 

 

A long time ago, long before Jinyoung arrived at the village, Mark had been an outcast.

From what Jinyoung has been told, he had his… gift, so to say, for all the time he's lived there. The villagers avoided him, and his family, like a plague. Speaking of Mark’s family, people rarely mention them, and, when they do, they change the subject with haste. All Jinyoung knows is that Mark is the only one left there.

It is told that Mark, when young, spent a lot of time in the cemetery. He had no reason to be there, but, for some reason, he spent the entire day tidying the place, removing weeds, dusting the tombstones, bringing new flowers when the old withered and new incense when the old wore off. It creeped people out, comprehensibly so. Some people said he sometimes slept there even.

Jinyoung could never bring himself to ask Mark about that when he was himself. The timing was never good. But he had it written down in his phone, along with the all the background research he had done on him; after all, it could be an important piece in finding out what’s the origin of Mark’s problem. 

With time, however, several incidents changed the villager’s opinion on him. From what Jinyoung heard, Mark’s family was already gone when it first happened – a brutal murder in the village, a locked room mystery that left the police puzzled, and everyone shocked and terrified. It’d probably remain unsolved to date, a police officer told Jinyoung, if it hadn’t been for Mark. One day, about two weeks after the murder happened, Mark came downhill and told them everything.

But of course, it wasn’t Mark. It was the victim.

The first assumption was that he had been the killer and was now playing mad, or perhaps had truly gone mad from guilt. The villagers hated him even more, but there was no evidence on him, and, once the victim uncovered the mystery, the newly found evidence on the real killer was undeniable. As much as it didn’t help with the public opinion, the police respected him for his help, and Mark was never charged with any crime. 

Then, it kept happening. Without any warning, Mark would come down the hills to tell something to the villagers – something important, urgent messages from the spirit realm. Once he channeled an ancient rain god, some claim, and warned them about a typhoon that was bound to hit in two days. Then there was the time he channeled a recently deceased elder to warn her family about the conflict brewing among their younger generation, which the involved people eventually admitted to. This particular event was what dissolved any suspicion that Mark could be a fraud; many friends of the spirit talked to her during Mark’s possession, and she proved, once for all, that it was really her talking.

“This boy – well, you might have noticed it, but he has a gift,” she said through Mark’s body. “He lets us in with ease, lends us his energy. My friends on this side are fond of him, so treat him well.”

And with that, Mark went from a public enemy to some sort of oracle. He often receives gifts in his home, ranging from money, soju, and sea shells, to meat, which is especially expensive in that part of the country. All the villagers greet him with silent reverence, and, after Jinyoung moved into town and became his best-friend-slash-companion, they ask about him regularly, always offering them things, like dinner, or free products from their shops, free services and the sort. 

Mark seems unfazed by all that. Although he quite likes the meat.

He never mentions the cemetery.

 

 

“And so?”

“He said cherry tomatoes are pretty easy to grow, and that you should start from there. When it gets warmer, you can move to outside stuff, like radish.”

“Hm. I like this Haeyong guy. He’s the only spirit who gives us tips about vegetables.” Mark is smiling softly. His cheeks are a bit rosy from the cold wind, and the sand crunches under his feet. “Should we go buy some seeds?”

“After you’re done with freezing to death, yes,” Jinyoung jokes. “Couldn’t we wait the weather let up to come to the beach? Did it have to be today?”

“I like looking at the sea when it’s still cold,” Mark retorts, turning his head right to look at the sea. Jinyoung catches a glimpse of the tip of his ear, also slightly reddened. “It’s like it’s a different thing from the summer sea, you know? Besides, we’re wearing coats. It’s not that cold.”

“My nose is about to fall off,” Jinyoung mumbles.

“You complain too much.” He turns to Jinyoung, and their eyes meet briefly. The very tip of his nose is also a bit red. He _has_ to be at least a little cold… “Ah.”

He suddenly halts. 

Jinyoung is a bit slow in his reaction, stopping a few steps ahead of him. When he turns, he finds Mark standing still, his head hung low.

“Mark?” He frowns. Mark shudders. “Are you okay?”

Mark raises his head, eyes closed, and, for a second, it looks like he’s about to faint. Jinyoung rushes forward before he can think twice, ready to catch him if he falls.

And he does fall – or rather, he plunges forward, wraps his arms tight around Jinyoung, and both of them fall to the sand. Jinyoung hits his back a bit hard even though the sand absorbs some of the impact. Mark is laughing hysterically.

Or rather…

“ _Sally_ ,” Jinyoung hisses.

“Gotcha!” Sally singsongs, raising Mark’s head to meet Jinyoung’s eyes. When Sally is in him, Mark’s eyes look bigger, more pure, in a sense, even though her smile is wicked. Said smile soon falls, though. “Yikes, Jinyoungie, why the long face? Not happy to see me?”

“Well, what can I say,” Jinyoung retorts a bit spitefully. “You did give me quite the fright. Care to get off me?”

“Okay, sorry, sorry.” Sally does as told, then helping Jinyoung up. When he’s up, Sally uses Mark’s hands to dust the sand off Jinyoung’s coat, then hair. Somehow, this turns into combing his hair gently into place, like a caress. “You look cute like this. Your cheeks are pink.”

 _Yours too_ , he could say, but it wouldn’t be true. It’s not her cheeks that are pink. It’s not her who looks cute. 

“You’re back sooner than usual.”

“Well, we barely had any time together last time.” She has a habit that kicks in when she sulks; in addition to pouting, she starts swaying side by side on her feet, like a child. “We didn’t even go home together. I wanted to have dinner with you! Taste some of your cooking…”

“I barely ever cook, actually,” Jinyoung laughs. “It’s always Mark who cooks when it’s us.”

“Well _Mark_ wouldn’t be there, would he?” She throws back with some spite, dropping the childish act immediately. 

Jinyoung lowers his eyes. “You’re right,” he says. 

A moment passes in silence. 

“He was quite looking forward to seeing the sea today,” is how Jinyoung starts off. “A bit silly, isn’t it? It’s cold, the sky is grey, but still, he wanted to come no matter what.”

“Yeah?” 

“Hm.” He decides to press it. “He’s gonna end up missing it this time. It’ll be a pain if he makes me come down a second time, you know? It’s really cold, I’m gonna throw a fit and we’ll end up fighting for real.”

She’s casting quite the somber expression in Mark’s face now. Brows drawn tight closer in suspicion. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

Well, maybe he should just be straightforward. “Can we meet some other time?” He tries to ease his words with a smile. “Maybe at Mark’s house?”

“Are you telling me to leave?” Faint voice. Wide eyes. “Are you seriously _telling me to leave_?”

“Just for now, don’t get me wrong,” Jinyoung steps forward, but Mark’s body steps back.

“Don’t you care about how I feel, Jinyoung?” Mark’s voice is louder now. Much louder. “Do you know the trouble that is coming down? It’s a _lot_ of trouble, I’ll let you know that! Yet I do it for you and this is how you treat me?!”

“Look, Sally, I understand that you feel that way,” he had planned to sound comforting, but, for some reason, that comes sharper than intended. “But this isn’t easy for Mark either. It tires him, and disorients him a great deal.”

“Stop talking about Mark!!” She outright screams at him. “Stop! Just stop! I don’t care about him!”

 _You’re using his body as a vessel for yourself._ Jinyoung takes a deep breath. _You’re taking his life away from him. And you have the gall to say you don’t care for him?_ Anger tastes like copper, and it burns his throat.

“Mark is a good friend of mine.”

“A _friend_ , sure,” she spites out. “You practically babysit him, always following him around like a lap dog. It’s disgusting.”

“If it weren’t for Mark we wouldn’t have met,” Jinyoung points out.

“SHUT UP!!” Jinyoung is becoming apprehensive. Mark’s eyes are bloodshot, dancing in a crazed expression. The idea of having a furious spirit controlling Mark’s body is not very pleasing to Jinyoung. 

“I can’t stand this,” Sally suddenly lowers Mark’s voice to a whisper. “I can’t do this anymore.”

When she tears the muffler off Mark’s neck, Jinyoung already knows what she intends to do. So he charges.

“SALLY!” He screams as she runs from him, scrambling towards the sea. He cuts her path, grabs Mark’s body tightly, but she struggles violently. “Stop!! This is not your body, Sally!”

“Who the fuck cares!! Let me go!” Mark is about the same height as Jinyoung, and both are equally slight. Jinyoung is in no way stronger than Mark, but the grip he has around Mark’s arms is firmer than iron. “LET ME GO!”

She seizes violently, and they tumble ungraciously to the ground for a second time. Jinyoung still doesn’t let go, not until he slams Mark’s body down in the sand, locking his legs in place with his own body weight.

“Sally, listen to me. Listen to me.” It’s a hard task for Jinyoung, to stay rational when his heart is ponding so hard that he can hear it in his ears. When he looks at Mark’s face, there are tears rolling down his cheeks. “This is Mark’s body, Sally. Not yours. I know it’s hard to accept it, but you don’t belong to this realm anymore, and he’s more than a flesh suit for you to wear so you can walk among the living. He’s a person, he has his own life.”

Her struggling gets feebler and feebler the harder she cries.

“You were trying to kill him, you know that, right? You know he can’t swim, don’t you?” Jinyoung keeps going, trying to hold back the white-hot fury that threatens to suffocate him. “What were you thinking? Would you like it, if someone had done this to you when you were alive?”

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. Her crying face, the crying face she creates in Mark – it’s quite ugly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Jinyoung—”

He wants to keep going. He has many things he wants to say, shout even, now that he’s started on the subject, but they aren’t all directed to Sally only. He can’t bring himself to take out his frustration on her, even though she just tried to do something horrible. One look at Mark’s face, and he just can’t go on.

“I’ll never,” she sobs, coughs. A wave rolls close to them, and Jinyoung’s shoes get wet. “I’ll never do this again. I’ll never come down again, Jinyoung, I promise. I will leave you two alone. I’m so sorry.”

Jinyoung blinks. “Sally—”

“You were right. I don’t belong to this realm anymore.” She sniffs. “I shouldn’t keep stalling here, but, just—Jinyoung,” and then she spills again, crying quietly, but hard, in pain. “I love you so much, Jinyoung.”

His heart aches for her. He finally lets go, loosens the immobilizing grip he had on Mark’s shoulders, and sits his body up. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She seems to calm down. “I knew this would be your answer. I knew it all along.”

Jinyoung has nothing to reply to that with.

Silence.

“This is a goodbye, but…” her hand reaches for his. She entwines their fingers. “Can I ask for one last thing before I go?”

“Sure.”

“Kiss me?” She pleads, raising Mark’s eyes to meet Jinyoung’s, and he knows, he _knows_ it’s her, but he feels a tug in his chest. “You… can pretend I’m him, if you’d like.”

Jinyoung chuckles a bit bitterly. “You’re not him, Sally.”

“Hmpf. I know. Suit youself then.” Even in her sorrow, there’s a hint of petulance. It dissolves quickly, though. “Goodbye, Jinyoung.”

“Goodbye.” And he pulls her in.

The touch of Mark’s lips is soft, wet, and incredibly cold.

 

 

“It was a bad idea,” Mark admits on their way up, right between his tenth and eleventh sneeze. There, there goes the eleven. 

“You don’t say,” Jinyoung ironizes, his congested nose tampering a little with his pronunciation.

“Look, I didn’t know we’d end up in the water somehow,” Mark justifies, right before the twelfth and thirteenth sneezes kick in. “Only you know why.”

“I told you! Sally pulled me in!” This was the first time Jinyoung intentionally tampered with the reports to Mark. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to tell him the whole truth. 

“Let’s just settle it like this: it was no one’s fault.” Mark suggests wisely, sniffing loudly as they climb down the second-to-last hill. “Or actually, it was the weather’s fault. Ugh, my head hurts so bad.” He winces. “What did I even do?”

Jinyoung’s lips tingle. “ _You_ didn’t do anything,” he says matter-of-factly, clapping Mark cordially on his back. “Just take some medicine, a cup of hot tea, and all will be right with the world.”

 

 

 

The story of how Mark and Jinyoung met is not a very eventful one. It started just six months ago, when Jinyoung moved into town.

The reason for Jinyoung’s moving is shrouded in mystery for most villagers. He just showed up one day, a big trunk in his hand, looking for somewhere to stay the night, according to his own words. He found the Ineo pension, rented a room – and hasn’t left ever since.

On the next day after his arrival, he walked around town, buying food and introducing himself to his villagers. His name was Park Jinyoung, he said, and he came from Seoul. He was going to stay a while, non-specificed, and he was a fiction writer. He didn’t mind when, upon listing the titles he has written so far, people admitted they didn’t know them. _I haven’t made it big_ , he would say. _Yet_ , he’d add.

He took a walk all around the village, from the commercial center to the docks, then the residential areas, before he went west. It was like that, walking aimlessly, looking to map the area with his feet, that he met Mark.

The first time Jinyoung saw Mark, he actually saw a spirit named Shin, an ex-circus artist, balancing Mark’s body over his own fence.

The first time Mark saw Jinyoung, they were inside the house, drinking tea and eating homemade muffins, and Jinyoung was staring at him with wide, wide eyes. 

Jinyoung had no trouble with accepting Mark’s explanation though. “I get possessed a lot,” he said offhandedly, to which Jinyoung replied only, “ah”. They talked the entire afternoon about various topics, and, when Jinyoung came to his home again the next day, and the next, and the next, the friendship blossomed between them.

The tab system came up two weeks later.

“Wouldn’t it be useful for you?” Jinyoung commented after first suggesting it, a bit offhandedly, to Mark. “You could start observing a pattern, maybe. Knowing more about this ability could help you control it, in a way.”

Mark had a thoughtful expression on. His eyes were vacant, but his brows are very slightly tense, in an expression Jinyoung would learn to recognize as his thoughtful one. “I see,” he nods, at last. “Let’s do it. It might be interesting.”

“I promise not to write any books about you,” Jinyoung joked.

“You can write one if you want,” Mark smiled. “People would think it’s fiction anyway. Maybe it can be your first best-seller.”

Perhaps it was then that it started – the growing feelings in Jinyoung’s chest that attempt to swallow him whole.

 

 

 

“He gave you a rice noodle recipe?”

Mark nods from where he stands in front of the oven. “Interesting, right? I think he was the first spirit who thought of talking to me that way.”

“I see…” Jinyoung stares at the piece of paper that lies on the table, right beside the onions he’s supposed to be chopping. _Stir-fried rice noodles, Singapore style_ , says the title at the top. _Jimmy_ , says the signature in the bottom. According to Mark, he fainted early in the morning, when he was still getting out of bed, then woke up at the kitchen table, a pen in his hands and the recipe written down. Jinyoung marvels in how Jimmy’s handwriting is so starkly different for Mark’s, even though they come from the same hand.

“It can be useful, in the end, to have spirits coming in and out of your body,” Jinyoung notes, going back to his task of chopping vegetables. He steals a glance at the small flower pot that rests by the window. “You end up learning about a lot of different things.”

“True,” Mark merely agrees.

“Maybe that’s why you cook so well,” Jinyoung teases, and Mark chuckles.

“No, that I learned from my dad,” is what Mark says, and Jinyoung’s smile falls.

There’s a moment of silence in the kitchen. To Jinyoung, it feels a little tense.

“You… never told me about your dad,” he chooses to say, in a quiet voice, watching Mark carefully. He’s apprehensive. “Or your family, in general.”

“I didn’t?” Mark turns to him, genuinely puzzled. No red flags. When he frowns, it’s at himself. “I guess I didn’t.”

“You really didn’t.”

“It’s no big deal though. I have my dad, my mum, and a couple of siblings. They live in China now. We talk sometimes.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung says a bit dumbly. Deep inside, he had always believed Mark’s family to be dead, or disappeared, or something similar. “I… see.”

“Hm.”

Silence again. Mark won’t speak more if he doesn’t ask, Jinyoung knows that.

“When they moved out,” is what he asks next, “why did you choose to stay?”

From the kitchen table, he sees Mark shrug.

“I like it here,” he says. “My family moves around a lot. When I was a kid, we moved countries so much, we didn’t even stay a whole year in some of them.”

Jinyoung frowns. “That’s…”

“That sucked,” Mark completes it for him. “I hated it, but it was for my dad’s job. There was nothing I could do. We fought a lot back then.”

A pause. Jinyoung keeps quiet.

“I was in my rebellious stage when we got here.” Mark turns around, and he’s smiling in a carefree manner. It makes Jinyoung feel foolish for tiptoeing around the subject for this long. “I had dropped out of school and kept running away from home. I was a bit stupid.”

“People told me you went to the cemetery a lot.” There. He has finally reached that topic.

“Yeah. It was the one place I knew my parents wouldn’t come look for me. My whole family has always had weird experiences with the dead.”

Jinyoung nods. There’s a quarter of an onion still unchopped on the board. It’ll stay like that for a while. “Did you already… channel spirits back then?”

“I don’t think so.” Mark crosses his arms, and frowns in deep thought. He has his back turned to the oven now. Jinyoung hopes he hasn’t forgotten about whatever he’s preparing there. “I mean, I think it happened once or twice? But it started happening all the time when I came here.”

“Maybe because of the cemetery.”

“Maybe.”

To Jinyoung, the air seems somewhat clearer between them, now that he knows about Mark’s past, knows a little more about him. It might be just him who thinks that way, though. But there’s one last thing. One last thing he still doesn’t know.

“Barely anyone talks about your family, in the village,” he prompts.

“Yeah.” For a second, it feels like Mark won’t say anything else. When Jinyoung opens his mouth, though, to try to change the subject, he adds, “they weren’t very popular here. My dad is an undertaker of a huge real state agency, and he had all sorts of plans to make the village… more modern, I guess. No one really liked the idea.”

“Hm.” It’s a bit endearing, how Mark’s life story is so plain. His daily life is so absurd, so full of supernatural events and as much adventure you can have in a pinhole-sized town in the Northeast, that his normal background adds some charm to it. If he were writing a book about this, Jinyoung thinks, he’d consider spicing it up, but it’d probably be the best if left as it is.

“Actually, I don’t know. It doesn’t sound that bad,” he comments a bit cheekily, making a mental note to update his data later, when his hands are available again. “I think the docks could totally use a skyscraper.” 

Mark laughs loudly, high-pitched and contagious. “Shut up and cut your onions, Jinyoung.”

 

 

On billing days at the pension, Jinyoung arrives later at Mark’s place, because he likes to sort the bills out first thing in the morning. That means having to wait for the landlady to wake up, and having a rare breakfast with her, and with other occasional residents that might show up, as Jinyoung is currently the only long term inquiline there.

“And how’s young Mr. Tuan doing these days?” Those are always the landlady’s parting words to Jinyoung, when the payment is done and they’re both tidying up the table. 

“Quite fine, Mrs. Jung,” is always what he says, adding a different mundane comment every time. This time he says, “he’s been brushing up his cooking skills.”

“That’s good to hear.” She smiles politely.

By the time Jinyoung sets off to Mark’s place, the sun is high outside and there are a lot of people in the streets, going here and there doing their business. Jinyoung greets all of them with the same smile in his way up, noticing how pleasant the weather at this hour is in comparison with early mornings, and how he can see the scenery much better. It’s rare for him, to admire the green mountains that stand tall at west, even though he walks towards them every day…

He makes it to Mark’s place around lunchtime, sweating a little from the walk. “Hello!” He calls, jumping over the fence as he usually does. The garden is already getting wild again… but with Mark’s sudden interest in agriculture, it shouldn’t be so for much longer. “I’m here! Hello!”

No answer. Jinyoung opens the front door.

“Mark?” The living room looks even darker than usual; with a quick look around, Jinyoung notices that all the curtains are drawn shut. He also spots Mark lying on the spacious living room couch, stomach up, an arm dangling lazily over the border. When Jinyoung steps in, he slowly, very slowly, drags his glance to meet Jinyoung’s own.

Perhaps he’s sick?

“It’s rather dark here, no?” Jinyoung comments as he toes off his shoes and steps in. “Are you feeling well?”

“You.”

Jinyoung’s step falters. The intonation is strange.

“Park Jinyoung,” Mark repeats, in the same sultry voice. Jinyoung frowns deeply.

“Yes,” he affirms, stopping a couple of steps away from the couch. There’s something strange about the current situation. “Uh…”

“Mark isn’t here right now.” This is an accent Jinyoung isn’t familiar with. Thick, rich, like melting chocolate. Mark rises from the couch. “Leave your message after the beep. Or actually, you can sit down.”

For now, Jinyoung does as told, taking a good luck at Mark’s face. His eyes are dark, hooded, and there’s a small smirk in his lips that almost reads as cruel. There really is something wrong with this, but…

“So you’re a spirit?”

“How did you guess?”

Jinyoung nods. “May I have your name?” 

“Call me Viper,” Mark leans closer, close enough for Jinyoung to count his eyelashes. He doesn’t. He can’t; he’ll lose count. “Hm. You’re more handsome like this. Seen through his eyes.”

“Thank you,” Jinyoung smiles. “Since you’re acquainted with my appearance, I can presume you’ve been with Mark for a while.”

“Eh, not really.” Leaning back, Mark now props one elbow on the back of the couch – Mark’s body. Mark. Viper. – assuming a lazy, but quite regal position. “Just saw a little, got curious. Caught you and Sally brawling some weeks ago, after she tried to drown this guy.” Low chuckle. Jinyoung is blank inside. “Brash little girl.”

For the first time since Jinyoung has started dealing regularly with Mark’s possessions, he’s at a complete loss of what to say. He knows something is off, and he has a feeling he knows what, but—some things don’t add up. He doesn’t know what to think.

“I see,” is what he says, instead, perhaps letting his hesitation transpire. Mark—Viper?—is staring at him unblinkingly. “So… is there a specific reason why you’re here?”

“Oh, just trying it out. I’ve been dead for so long I forgot what it’s like, to be… corporeal.” He—they—extend a hand in front of their eyes, as if marveling in its solidness. “Besides,” they smirk, eyes darting back to Jinyoung, and Mark’s hand falls to land on Jinyoung’s thigh, in an obviously calculated gesture. “I wanted to see you from up close. _Feel_ you from up close,” they add, tiptoeing Mark’s fingers up Jinyoug’s thigh, slowly, very slowly, leaving a hot trail on his flesh.

Jinyoung stops them.

“I feel bad for disappointing you, then,” he says with a dry smile. “But there’s someone else I like, and I’m an old-fashioned guy.”

Viper tilts Mark’s head questioningly, perhaps feigning innocence – but then it seems to dawn on them. “Oh, come on, Park Jinyoung,” their fingers spread out, almost too hot to bear. “It’s the same body. The same face!”

“As much as I quite like his body, and his face,” Jinyoung says simply, “it’s not those things that I’m in love with.”

Something flashes across Mark’s eyes. Jinyoung knows—thinks he knows what it is, and although he’s still confused, he grows surer of his theory.

“What is it, that you’re in love with then?” Viper retreats Mark’s fingers from Jinyoung’s thigh, gaze turning cold. “His personality? His laugh, or something stupid like that?”

“Him.” It’s just that. Nothing more. His smile goes fond. “All of that, and more. Him, as a person. Even the parts that I don’t like.”

“That’s…” There it is again. Faltering. Hesitation. “That’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, do you even know what he’s really like? Can you even tell what is him and what is a spirit?”

“I’m confident that I can. Mark has his own mannerisms, as every person has,” Jinyoung replies. “Even a spirit pretending to be him is wildly different from him being himself.”

Viper leans forward a bit predatorily. “How can you be so sure?”

“Instinct. I just am.” A pause. “It’s hard to explain how… it’s like looking at water and glass, and being able to tell which one is which. It’s not very clear at first, sometimes, but it’s different. It just is.”

Viper’s demeanor has changed completely. The sultriness, the ease with which they played Jinyoung when he first walked into the room was long gone. Instead, there’s clear tension in the twist of Mark’s mouth. Viper’s mouth. Mark’s. 

“You’re a foolish man,” they say quietly.

“I suppose I am.” He gets to his feet, turning around to face them. “Would you get him to his room safely after I leave?”

Viper gapes. “You’re leaving?”

“Unfortunately. I wouldn’t usually, but…” Jinyoung hesitates. “His warmth is always the same. Even when I know it’s not him. So, with you so close to me, I… I don’t want to do something I shouldn’t.”

Dead silence follows his words. It almost feels like it’ll last forever.

“Yet, you kissed Sally when she asked you.”

“It was both out of pity for her, and a moment of weakness of mine,” Jinyoung confesses. “A thing I shouldn’t have done. And… it’s because I don’t regret it that I think I should leave now.”

Viper doesn’t say another word, and shows no expression other than confusion.

He leaves.

 

 

 

Jinyoung feels quite lost as he walks down the hill. He had never gone downtown so early on his own – if he wasn’t taking Mark shopping or for a rare dinner out, he always went home late at night, when the streets were already dead. Should he go home? He has no idea of what to do with himself if he goes to town.

He decides he could use some alcohol. 

And that’s how he ends up at the nearest liquor store, basket in hands, trying to choose among several almost-identical bottles of peach cider. He doesn’t, under any circumstance, consider going to a bar, as he gets enough questions about Mark without him suddenly showing up downtown to drink by himself. The liquor shop is nondescript enough that he gets to be at peace inside. It’s always so empty that Jinyoung feels like it’ll go out of business anyday.

“Park Jinyoung?”

Such is his luck.

He turns around, and finds a man in a dark suit standing behind him, looking distinctly out of place in that narrow shop – or actually, in that unknown village. Jinyoung blinks.

“That’s me,” he answers. He doesn’t know this man, so he mustn’t be from around there.

“You probably don’t remember me,” the man says, extending a hand for Jinyoung to shake. “I’m Kim Yugyeom. I was a rookie policeman in the Mapo Headquarters when you worked there.”

Jinyoung blinks again, twice this time. He’s aware that it takes longer than socially advised for him to take this guy’s hand but—he can’t help it. He’s in shock. “I… see,” he finally shakes his hand. “Kim Yugyeom. I might remember you.”

“We didn’t talk much, but I saw you around a lot. Always busy back then.” Kim Yugyeom chuckles about such past affairs with a lightness that Jinyoung himself can’t muster. “What are you doing here? I heard you quit the force.”

“Retired. Yeah.” A familiar tightness crawls into Jinyoung’s chest. “I live here now. Needed some fresh air from the countryside. You?”

“On a trip to a nearby town. Had to stop here for the night.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Mass murder case. Seems like it was pretty bad, too. There’s so much stuff that doesn’t just add up,” Yugyeom says, and he sighs in such a heartfelt way that Jinyoung visualizes dark circles under his eyes. “If we had someone as smart as you in the team… no offense to the current detective, he tries his best, but he’s really not on your level.”

Jinyoung smile is a bit strained. But he still accepts the praise. “Well, thank you. I wish you the best in your case. Send my regards to your colleagues as well.”

“Thank you. I will.” It’s then that Jinyoung notices that Yugyeom doesn’t have a basket. He didn’t come in to buy anything; perhaps he spotted Jinyoung, and went in just to talk to him. “Stay well, sunbaenim.”

“Same to you.” And he leaves.

Jinyoung grabs an extra bottle of soju, and heads for the cashier. 

 

 

He hasn’t lied about being a fiction writer. Not to Mark, nor to anyone. It’s what he intends to do for a living now, after saving up enough money from his time in the force to be stable for a while.

He just doesn’t like talking about Seoul. 

He can’t do what Mark does, to casually tell someone about the tribulations of his past over minced vegetables and noodles. It’s not that his past is so much worse than Mark’s, but—it’s too recent. The wounds are still closing up.

However, that night, as he watches the winter moon through his bedroom window and drinks straight from the bottle a tad miserably, he realizes he needs to tell Mark about this. And not just this—other things too, that he hasn’t been really hiding, but hasn’t been entirely truthful about.

And he has a nagging suspicion that there are things Mark needs to tell him too.

 

 

Morning comes, as it always does. Jinyoung has barely slept when he wakes up, groggy, confused, and cold, his mouth pasty. The sun is quite dim outside, specially through the mildly foggy window, so why… why is he up so early, even though he drank last night away?

Mental conditioning, he concludes as the headache kicks in. He has been waking up at this time every day for six months. His body doesn’t care that he has barely slept. It just feels the need to wake up.

When he gets up, he almost trips on an empty cider bottle. Pathetic.

Despite the headache, though, and the initial thirst, he doesn’t feel all that hungover; there’s no queasiness, which he’s glad for, and the stiffness in his joints is minimal. Some medicine from his personal cabinet and an apple from the fridge should fix him good enough, and, when he leaves the pension, set to visit Mark as always, he’s pretty optimistic about the day.

That is until he sees a familiar figure walking down the hill. 

It’s the first time Jinyoung has seen Mark come down alone, and it feels to him as some kind of karmic compensation for yesterday’s first. And yet, he can’t feel vindictive. He’s actually a bit worried, and starts walking to meet him halfway, and he can’t deny that, when Mark looks up and sees Jinyoung coming to him, the smile that blossoms in his lips makes his heartbeat falter.

“Good morning,” he greets when they get close enough.

“Morning.” Jinyoung takes a bite of his apple. “Want some?”

“I’m good. Had my toast already.”

Jinyoung chuckles. “Okay.” Pause. “Kinda rare to see you coming down here. Without me, I mean.”

“Decided to try something different today,” is his answer, accompanied by a small shrug. “Shall we go up now?”

“Sure.”

So they go together, walking side by side in a cordial silence, broken only by the sound of their steps and the crunch of the apple when Jinyoung bites it. The milk boy passes by them, greets them both. The streets are empty, dead silence, and the green hills in the distance are covered in thick, white mist. To Jinyoung, the walks feels comfortable, familiar. Almost like nothing changed. 

He relishes that moment, and readies himself.

When they arrive at Mark’s house, Jinyoung does as usual and throws the apple core into the nearest empty lot. Mark scrunches his nose at him, but says nothing, and opens the front gate.

“Mark,” Jinyoung calls quietly. Mark hums, signaling that he’s listening. “Can we talk?”

At that, Mark raises his head, staring at Jinyoung as if he had grown horns. “Don’t we always talk?”

“Well, yes. Very well noted,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “I mean… talk about something specifically. Or rather, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

Now he can tell that Mark has become apprehensive. He wonders if Mark knows. No, wait—he definitely knows at least a part of it.

“Sure,” he finally replies. “Let’s go in.”

And in they go.

The living room is still dark when they arrive, the curtains still shut, but they walk right past it, straight into the kitchen. It had, after all, become their default meeting place in the mornings. It’s automatic. 

“Coffee?”

“Yeah.”

But the silence is a bit foreign. It’s different. Jinyoung doesn’t know why he feels that it’s different, or how, but he does. Maybe he has a gift too – but that doesn’t matter for now.

A cup of coffee lands in front of him.

“So?”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath.

“So.” He starts off like this. Not bad. Not good. “Have you ever wondered why I ended up here?”

Mark blinks. “In my house?”

“In the village.”

“Ah.” He frowns thoughtfully. “Yeah. I don’t remember ever asking you about it. Thinking well,” he adds, “I don’t really know much about you. I know that you’re a writer, and you’re from Seoul… and that’s it.”

“I’m from Changwon, actually,” Jinyoung confesses, and Mark ‘oh’s quietly. “I just lived in Seoul for a while.”

“I see.” A pause. Quietness. Jinyoung waits. “You… never talked about your family, either.”

“My family is normal. Parents, grandparents, a younger sister. Most of them live either in Changwon or in Busan. My sister got married last year.”

“Hm.” Jinyoung watches him. He senses something – tension, nervousness? “Okay. Look,” he says suddenly, slamming his palms on the table, hard enough that Jinyoung startles. “Before you go on. There’s stuff I need to tell you about.”

He’s been waiting for this.

“What is it?” Jinyoung asks kindly. Mark rarely frets, rarely sweats over anything, and, when he does, Jinyoung has found out that he responds well to nonchalance. 

“Well… it’s about… something that happened.”

“So it is.”

“Yeah, um.” He bites his lip. Bites hard, and doesn’t let it go, catching it with his teeth again when it starts to slip. “I…,” an exhale, “um—ah, Jinyoung, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this alone.”

“Hm?” A frown of genuine confusion.

“It’s just… you’ll understand. I’m sorry.” Mark takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. His head knocks back, as if he’s about to faint, and Jinyoung holds himself back from lurching forward do catch him.

In all but seconds, Mark’s eyes fly open.

“Oh, wow. He actually let me in.” It’s not Mark. “Sorry for interrupting, man. I didn’t know you were having a heart-to-heart today.”

Jinyoung suppresses a sigh. “You are…?”

“Raccoon. Been around here for this days.” Mark’s body immediately assumes a completely different posture; Raccoon crosses his legs, throws his torso back, and makes him seen completely relaxed. It makes Jinyoung realize how nervous Mark must’ve been. “So, looks like this guy wants me to pass you some messages. I have a bunch of news for you, none particularly good or bad. Which do you want first?”

“Pft. Take your pick.”

“So I will. You see, this guy has been practicing his… powers, so to say, for the past weeks. Trying to control some stuff he couldn’t before, like communicating with the spirits and stuff. Hasn’t progressed much on that these days, but he _did_ ,” he raises a finger for emphasis, “learn how to stay conscious during possessions.”

Jinyoung blinks. 

There is quite the silence before he prompts, “you mean…?”

“Before, he’d lose all senses if one of us came down – it was like fainting for him, you know? But now, he manages to stay up inside his own body.” Pause. “Which means he’s watching this conversation right now. It’s a little complicated.”

“For how long has he been able to do this?” Jinyoung asks curtly.

“Hm… a month maybe?”

He knows. He knew all along. He knew about the fight with Sally. The kiss.

It all makes sense.

“Which means he knows I’ve lied to him.”

“Seems so.”

Jinyoung buries his face in his hands. “Raccoon, I’m sorry, I appreciate your help,but I need to talk to Mark face to face.”

“Roger that.” He never thought he’d hear a spirit be pleased by the idea of leaving Mark’s body. “You two have a _lot_ to talk about. Imma’ leave with the others so you guys have some privacy, yeah?”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it.” Then, hilariously enough, he makes Mark’s body pat its own shoulder. “Good luck, little one.” And he’s gone.

Mark takes some time to open his eyes after that. Jinyoung wonders if he’s stalling, or if he’s just more tired than usual. He wonders if he slept well last night. If he also had thoughts of him until the dawn.

He opens his eyes.

“I can do the talking first,” Jinyoung proposes immediately. “You listen, and then you say anything you feel comfortable with saying. Is that okay?”

Mark doesn’t say anything. He just stares, eyes a bit dull, and nods.

“Okay. Let’s start with the basics, then.” It’s time. It’s time to clear it all out. “First of all, in case you haven’t noticed: Mark, I am in love with you.”

Silence. Nothing. Jinyoung watches Mark for a reaction, but he only swallows and curls the fingers that rest over the table, which Jinyoung can’t read, can’t sense anything from.

“I am. Madly.” He presses it. “Deeply. I am head over heels—”

“I got it already,” Mark kicks his shins under the table, letting out a quiet, shy laugh. He blushes from the base of his neck to the tip of his ears, and tries his best to avoid Jinyoung’s glance, as if hiding behind himself. “I got it. Move on.”

“You knew it already, didn’t you?”

Mark says nothing for a moment; when he does, is just a “yeah,” followed by a short nod.

“I see. I wasn’t exactly subtle. And of course, you heard it from my mouth when you pretended to be possessed yesterday.”

“You knew.”

Jinyoung smiles a little sadly. “I told you I could tell.”

“I—didn’t think it was possible,” Mark admits in a quiet voice. “That you could really tell all the time. I thought I would fool you.”

“You did have me there for a minute, when you mentioned Sally. I thought there was no way for you to know, even though I felt you weren’t possessed.” This is getting hard, Jinyoung can tell. His fingers are getting cold. “Which, I guess, brings me to the next topic of my exposé. Mark, I am truly sorry for kissing Sally without your consent that day. As much as it was someone else—it was still your body.”

“If you wanna know,” Mark suddenly cuts him off, tone dry. “I was… I’m more mad at the fact that it was someone else than anything.”

 _Calm down_ , Jinyoung tells himself. _Don’t get your hopes up. Not yet_. “I see.”

Mark nods. His eyes still won’t meet Jinyoung’s. “Go on.”

“I’m also sorry for lying to you when I reported back. To be truthful, I didn’t know how to tell you about the kiss, at the time. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, or having a torrid affair with a ghost behind your back.”

He finally looks up. He glares. “Well, were you?”

“Having an affair?”

“Both.”

“Well… just that time, and no, respectively.”

He nods again, drops his gaze. Jinyoung goes on.

“And at last, going back to the topic that I first wanted to discuss with you when we went in…” There. That is the hardest part. “I… wanted to open up about my past. Truth is, I didn’t end up here – on this village – by accident.”

That is the only thing in his whole speech that seems to really startle Mark. For once, he looks up from his own hands, which he has been staring at, to fully face Jinyoung with wide eyes and a deep frown. “What do you mean.”

“I mean that I moved into here on purpose. I came here to meet you.”

Shock washes over Mark’s expression. Jinyoung tries to hold on.

“Here’s a thing you probably don’t know about me: I used to be a detective for the Seoul Metropolitan Police. Mapo Headquarters.” He almost shudders. “Worked there for five years.”

Mark just blinks. He has all but frozen into place. “Jinyoung…”

“Yeah, I know. Quite honestly, those were the worst years of my life. Well… I guess I don’t need to narrate much about that.” A bitter smiler. “I retired six months ago. Medical reasons. PTSD, to be exact. I still don’t like to think back to then.”

“Don’t.” Mark replies. “Stop telling me. You don’t need—”

“I _wanted_ to tell you,” Jinyoung firmly interrupts him. “I wanted to. I had to. I had to explain how I first heard of you. It was when the news of a brutal murder in a faraway village arrived in Seoul.” He pauses. Mark is just gaping, so he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s how it was. It didn’t make the headlines, but it was talked about. They never really mentioned your heroic intervention in the news though. I heard about it as if it was an urban legend.”

“So… you came here to see if it was true?”

“Rather than that, I was just generally curious. And I did need some fresh air from the countryside.” He props his head on his hand, and doesn’t need to fake the dreamy, sickeningly sweet look he casts at Mark. “Who knew this urban legend would turn out to be such a charmer.”

“Tsk.” There it is; that shy laugh, the one that looks like he tried to restrain it, but failed. “You talk too much.”

“How insensitive!” Jinyoung fakes outragement. “I was telling you my life story.”

“And I like that. But…” and there it is too, the lip biting. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. “Jinyoung… don’t you think you owe me a kiss?”

Jinyoung’s breath catches in his throat.

“Oh?”

“Don’t you?” It’s like a trigger. Suddenly, the touch comes back to Jinyoung – the coldness, the feeling of softness, the very slight, very distant taste of salt…

“I suppose I do.”

“Then…” Mark gets to his feet. Jinyoung just watches him as he approaches, mouth suddenly dry, not resisting to the urge of licking his lips – and it’s then that, to his simultaneous bliss and horror, Mark straddles him. His warmth… “Go ahead.”

Jinyoung pulls him down, and finds heaven.

 

 

 

When Jinyoung moves out of the pension, no one questions anything. If anything, the landlady looks relieved.

“It is easier for you after all, my dear,” is what she says. “We’re all thankful that you take care of young Mr. Tuan so well. That boy has always been alone. It’s heartwarming that he now has a good friend like you.”

Jinyoung tries not to laugh. Good friend, indeed. “Thank you, Mrs. Jung. I’ll pass on your good wishes to Mark.”

And so he moves into the lone house uptown, up and down so many hills, almost out of the village borders. It looks a little, just a little different now; the messy garden is now used to grow radishes, cabbages, and cherry tomatos. None of those have sprouted yet, but Mark is optimistic about it. He’s also taken to rubik cubes out of the blue.

“Hi there,” Jinyoung greets when he arrives with his trunk and finds Mark watering the garden. The way Mark’s face lights up when he sees him… it’s the same as before, Jinyoung notices, but now that he knows what it means, it warms his chest.

“Hey! Wow, that looks heavy,” he comments upon noticing the trunk. “You should’ve called me for help.”

“Perhaps I should. But it’s all okay now.” Jinyoung smiles when Mark opens the gate for him, thanking him quietly. “Any news from the other side?”

“Some. Yanghyun says hi. Jimmy got me a chocolate pie recipe, sounds tasty but too many ingredients.” Mark smile turns softer, his voice lowering to a purr. “And I missed you.”

He pulls Jinyoung in for a kiss that involves way, _way_ more tongue than welcome-home kisses usually do. And honestly? Jinyoung has no complaints. If anything, he quite likes it, how Mark touches him, can’t get his hands off him, pulls him into his warmth. 

They part. “I missed you too,” Jinyoung mutters, admiring how Mark’s lips glisten under the sunlight. “But now I’m here. That’s what matters.”

“Hm.” 

And they would’ve stayed like that, holding each other in the middle of the garden, not saying anything, if Jinyoung hadn’t been the one to release Mark. “Let’s go inside. Need to settle these things down. Is my room upstairs?”

“ _Our_ room. Yes. I can help you with that, though.”

“Thanks.” They start they walk to the front door, Jinyoung pulling his trunk with little difficulty. “Do you want to go out today?”

“Yes, actually. I need to go to the cemetery,” Mark says, and Jinyoung can’t hide his surprise in hearing that. “I need to thank some people in there.”

Jinyoung considers asking… but, ultimately, he lets the subject go. He has an idea of what it might be, anyway; can sense a certain air around them, like silent laughter of an invisible crowd.

Maybe Mark really isn’t the only one with a gift, after all.


End file.
